Horizon Atoll: Hearts of Steel

Cassidy Boone had decided that Horizon Atoll was conspiring to make her a responsible adult.

It was a deeply unpleasant development.

She hadn’t agreed to this.

She distinctly remembered the character-selection screen offering her a wide assortment of firearms, several interesting infantry specializations, and the opportunity to become a Synthetic Infantry Asset in a military-themed virtual reality game.

She had selected a handgun.

Technically.

The handgun in question was a Smith & Wesson Model 500 chambered in .500 Magnum, configured with an exceptionally short snub-nosed barrel.

It was enormous.

It was unreasonable.

And it produced the kind of expression on other people’s faces that Cassidy regarded as one of life’s simpler pleasures.

She had expected to spend several days making terrible decisions with her friends.

Then the world ended.

Or became real.

Or did whatever it was that had turned their anticipated holiday into a permanent employment arrangement at a deteriorating naval base in the Pacific.

Now, thirty-seven days after the Crisis, Cassidy was sitting beneath a ceiling fan in the auxiliary infantry barracks, polishing a weapon she had already cleaned twice.

She considered this an insult to her personal character.

Across the table, Zofia Kowalska was lying facedown with her cheek pressed against a stack of training manuals.

The Polish girl’s burgundy scarf had slipped halfway over her face.

Her ash-blond hair was an impressive disaster.

She hadn’t moved for approximately six minutes.

Cassidy inspected the revolver’s exterior.

Satisfied, she placed it on the cleaning mat.

Then looked toward her friend.

”Zofia.”

No response.

”Zofia.”

A muffled sound came from the manuals.

Cassidy leaned closer.

”Are you dead?”

Another muffled sound.

She considered the question.

Then nodded.

”Terrible loss.”

Zofia slowly raised one hand.

Her middle finger extended.

Cassidy smiled.

”Ah. Signs of life.”

”Go away.”

”Can’t.”

”Why?”

”We live here.”

Zofia made a noise that might have been a groan or the last desperate attempt of a dying animal to communicate its suffering.

Cassidy considered it.

Then looked toward the window.

Beyond the barracks, sunlight fell across the repaired roads of Horizon Atoll. A truck rumbled toward the maintenance district. Somewhere outside, somebody was arguing with a forklift.

The ocean glittered behind the warehouses.

Beautiful weather.

Warm breeze.

Bright sky.

A proper tropical paradise.

Except for the naval bureaucracy.

And the Blackwake.

And the possibility of being killed.

And the fact that Cassidy hadn’t participated in an actual combat assignment since arriving.

She sighed.

”We should’ve picked something else.”

Zofia lifted her head.

”What?”

”The classes.”

Zofia blinked at her.

Cassidy nodded toward the revolver.

”Maybe something exciting.”

The Polish girl stared.

Then slowly pushed herself upright.

”Cassidy.”

”Hm?”

”You picked a revolver that looks like somebody cut the barrel off a small artillery piece.”

Cassidy smiled proudly.

”Thank you.”

”That was not a compliment.”

”I accept it anyway.”

Zofia gestured toward the firearm.

”You had hundreds of choices.”

”Yes.”

”And you chose that.”

”Yes.”

”Because you thought it would be funny.”

Cassidy considered the matter.

Then nodded.

”Still do.”

Zofia looked toward the ceiling.

”Boże, give me strength.”

Cassidy grinned.

Their room wasn’t particularly large.

The original auxiliary barracks had been intended to house a smaller security detachment, not twelve former players with wildly different firearms, equipment requirements, and personal habits.

Horizon had made accommodations.

Two additional rooms had been reopened.

The plumbing had been repaired.

The air-conditioning units had been coaxed back into service.

And the maintenance department had spent several days locating enough serviceable lockers to satisfy the group’s equipment-storage requirements.

Most of VESPER’s members now occupied neighboring rooms along the same corridor.

They shared a small common area, an equipment-cleaning room, and the extraordinary ability to generate noise at inconvenient hours.

The arrangement had become comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

Cassidy looked toward the calendar hanging beside the door.

Thirty-seven days.

Not merely a month anymore.

Thirty-seven days of morning inspections.

Weapons maintenance.

Physical training.

Emergency drills.

Range procedures.

Security assignments.

Medical examinations.

Communications exercises.

More inspections.

More drills.

More maintenance.

And the occasional exciting afternoon during which the entire group helped somebody move crates.

Cassidy had begun dreaming about crates.

She considered this grounds for filing an official grievance.

Zofia leaned back in her chair.

”I’m going to lose my mind.”

Cassidy glanced toward her.

”Pretty sure you can back it up.”

Zofia stared.

Then slowly smiled.

”Oh, you absolute—”

The door opened.

Morgan Reyes stepped inside carrying a clipboard and a bottle of water.

She looked at both of them.

Then at the training manuals.

Then at Cassidy’s revolver.

Her expression became weary.

”What are you two doing?”

Cassidy answered immediately.

”Preparing for death.”

Morgan stopped.

”...What?”

”Boredom. Terminal case.”

Zofia nodded solemnly.

”Advanced stages.”

Morgan stared.

Then sighed.

”You had physical training this morning.”

”Yes,” Cassidy replied.

”And weapons inspections.”

”Yes.”

”And the backup-system refresher.”

”Also yes.”

Morgan looked toward the ceiling.

”So how have you got nothing to do?”

Cassidy considered that.

”Because none of those involved going anywhere.”

Morgan stared at her.

Then looked toward Zofia.

The Polish girl folded her arms.

”We’ve been here for over a month.”

”I know.”

”Doing nothing.”

Morgan slowly lowered the clipboard.

”Nothing?”

Zofia hesitated.

Then corrected herself.

”Nothing interesting.”

Morgan’s expression became profoundly unimpressed.

She began counting on her fingers.

”We’ve helped reinforce the western checkpoint. We’ve assisted with warehouse security. We’ve run emergency evacuation exercises. We’ve spent hours learning what to do if somebody gets hurt. We’ve had live-fire qualifications. We’ve helped unload cargo. We’ve—”

”Exactly,” Cassidy interrupted.

Morgan stopped.

Cassidy smiled pleasantly.

”Responsible adult activities.”

There was a silence.

Then Morgan closed her eyes.

”You’re both idiots.”

Zofia nodded.

”Correct.”

Cassidy smiled.

”Internationally certified.”

Morgan looked toward the revolver.

”Please tell me you’re finished cleaning that thing.”

”Nearly.”

”You cleaned it yesterday.”

”Yes.”

”And this morning.”

”Yes.”

Morgan stared.

Cassidy looked down at the stainless-steel handgun.

Then gently patted the grip.

”She gets lonely.”

Morgan turned around.

”I’m going to find Alina.”

Zofia sat upright.

”No!”

Morgan paused.

”Why?”

”She’ll give us another assignment.”

”Good.”

”Traitor!”

Morgan left.

The door swung shut.

For a moment, Cassidy and Zofia sat in silence.

Then Zofia slowly lowered her forehead onto the manuals again.

Cassidy considered the situation.

”Well.”

A muffled voice answered.

”What?”

”Could be worse.”

Zofia didn’t move.

”How?”

Cassidy smiled.

”We could’ve picked battleships.”

The Polish girl lifted her head.

She stared.

Then burst out laughing.

 The original plan had seemed entirely reasonable.

At least to Alina Morozova.

When the naval VRMMORPG opened its registration system, VESPER had spent several evenings arguing over where to establish themselves.

The more popular naval bases were attractive.

Modern facilities.

Excellent defenses.

Established supply routes.

Convenient access to higher-tier training infrastructure.

And enough other players to make finding assignments easy.

Unfortunately, those same advantages meant competition.

A great deal of competition.

Every major harbor attracted commanders attempting to secure the best starting positions.

Every convenient military installation filled rapidly.

Several members of VESPER had suggested joining one of the larger groups.

Cassidy proposed selecting whichever base had the most impressive ammunition stores.

Zofia wanted somewhere with opportunities for reconnaissance.

Greta Falk wanted proper defensive works.

Élodie Marchand wanted a location that wasn’t crowded with people.

Lara Baumann wanted reliable medical facilities.

Morgan wanted somewhere that wouldn’t require six hours of arguing every time the group attempted to organize a mission.

Darya Belova wanted working electrical infrastructure.

Nobody had asked Johanna Weiss what she wanted until she’d announced that she would prefer somewhere with a pleasant view, good tea, and fewer idiots.

Nobody had known how to respond.

Then Alina had found Horizon Atoll.

An old naval station.

Undervalued.

Partially neglected.

Not particularly popular.

But large enough to accommodate an auxiliary infantry detachment, with a functioning military administration and space for the group to establish itself.

She’d examined the location.

Compared the facilities.

Studied the starting conditions.

And declared that it would be sensible.

The other eleven had trusted her.

That was their first mistake.

Their second mistake had been assuming the station’s condition was merely a temporary game mechanic.

The third had been assuming they’d be able to leave.

Now VESPER lived at Horizon.

And Alina was discovering that her friends remembered who had suggested the assignment.

Frequently.

Usually when they were unhappy.

Which, in Zofia’s case, was becoming a regular occurrence.

Alina was standing in the shared common room when Morgan found her.

The Russian woman had arranged several documents across a table, with a cup of bitter coffee beside her.

Darya sat opposite, examining a portable electronics tester.

Lara was reviewing medical-support records.

Ingrid Solheim had claimed the comfortable chair by the window and was reading a book.

Natsuki Hoshino was writing something in a neat notebook.

Greta was cleaning an equipment component.

Johanna had somehow acquired a porcelain teacup.

Élodie stood by the far window, looking out toward the harbor.

Réka Varga sat on the floor beside an open toolbox, repairing a small electrical connector under Darya’s supervision.

The common room was quiet.

Almost peaceful.

Morgan entered.

Alina looked up.

”Everything all right?”

Morgan sighed.

”Cassidy and Zofia are bored.”

The room became silent.

Then Darya spoke.

”Again?”

Morgan nodded.

”Again.”

Greta made a disapproving sound.

Johanna smiled into her tea.

Réka looked up.

”How bored?”

Morgan considered that.

”Cassidy says she’s dying.”

Réka nodded thoughtfully.

”Severe.”

”Zofia agrees.”

”Terminal.”

Alina closed her eyes.

Lara looked toward Morgan.

”Did they finish their equipment inspections?”

”Yes.”

”The manuals?”

”Mostly.”

”The afternoon duty roster?”

Morgan hesitated.

”They were supposed to review it.”

Alina opened her eyes.

”Supposed to?”

Morgan sighed.

”You know them.”

For a moment, Alina looked toward the ceiling.

Then she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

”I knew Horizon was going to be quiet.”

Darya glanced up.

”You said it would be practical.”

”It was practical.”

”You said we’d avoid unnecessary competition.”

”We have.”

”You said there would be opportunities for useful support work.”

”There have been.”

Réka grinned.

”She did not say the opportunities would be interesting.”

Alina slowly turned.

Réka looked back with extraordinary innocence.

Johanna laughed softly.

Morgan dropped into an empty chair.

”Look, they’re not wrong about everything.”

Alina raised an eyebrow.

Morgan continued.

”We have been training a lot.”

”Because we need training.”

”I know.”

”And because nobody wants to send us into a fight before we’re ready.”

”I know.”

”And because—”

”Alina.”

The Russian woman stopped.

Morgan smiled faintly.

”I agree with you.”

Alina looked embarrassed.

”Oh.”

”I’m just saying the others are getting restless.”

Lara lowered her papers.

”Restlessness isn’t the same as readiness.”

”No,” Morgan agreed.

Greta nodded.

”Correct.”

Réka considered the discussion.

Then raised one hand.

Alina looked toward her.

”What?”

”I have a question.”

”Go ahead.”

”If we’re not going anywhere, why did we spend three hours yesterday practicing emergency embarkation?”

Darya answered without looking up.

”Because evacuation procedures are useful whether or not you expect to use them.”

Réka nodded.

”Yes.”

A pause.

Then she added:

”But it would be nice to see a boat.”

Greta looked toward her.

”We live on an island.”

”A boat we’re allowed to ride.”

Élodie spoke from the window.

”An important distinction.”

Johanna smiled.

”Quite.”

Alina sighed.

Her friends were impossible.

They had always been impossible.

That was part of why she loved them.

But they’d become increasingly difficult to manage since the Crisis.

Not because they were deliberately disobedient.

Most weren’t.

They attended their training.

Followed the station’s safety procedures.

Maintained their equipment.

And worked alongside the native security personnel without causing serious problems.

But the waiting was beginning to wear on them.

A month was long enough for the first shock of the Crisis to fade.

Long enough for routines to develop.

Long enough for people to stop checking for a logout option every evening.

And long enough for the reality of their situation to become uncomfortable in quieter ways.

They had no classes to attend.

No jobs to return to.

No families they could contact.

No certainty about whether the world they’d left still existed in any meaningful sense.

They were here.

Their friends were here.

And outside Horizon’s protective waters, people were fighting and dying.

Alina knew some of them felt guilty for being safe.

Others felt useless.

Cassidy and Zofia expressed those feelings through complaints about boredom.

Morgan expressed them by accepting more work than she should.

Natsuki studied until she was exhausted.

Darya repaired things.

Réka wandered around the maintenance district looking for something that needed attention.

Greta checked defensive positions.

Ingrid wrote in her journal.

Élodie watched the horizon.

Johanna prepared tea.

Lara tried to make sure everyone ate.

And Alina organized their schedules because it was the only thing she knew how to do when the world stopped making sense.

She looked down at the papers.

Then sighed.

”We’ll find them something useful.”

Morgan smiled faintly.

”Good luck.”

Before Alina could answer, the common-room telephone rang.

Everyone looked toward it.

The sound was ordinary.

Unexpected, but ordinary.

Alina reached for the receiver.

”Auxiliary Infantry Barracks. Morozova speaking.”

A familiar voice answered.

”This is Security Control. We have a directive from Operations.”

Alina straightened.

”Go ahead.”

”Commander Bher requests the full VESPER detachment report to the ground-operations room at thirteen hundred hours.”

Alina blinked.

”Full detachment?”

”All twelve members. Equipment not required for the initial briefing.”

She glanced toward Morgan.

The American woman was already sitting upright.

Alina listened as the operator continued.

”Piper’s auxiliary team has also been called. Security Officer Mira will attend.”

Alina’s expression changed.

”Understood. Did the Commander specify a reason?”

A pause.

Then:

”Operational assignment briefing. Further details will be provided there.”

Alina considered those words.

Operational assignment.

Not routine security duty.

Not another training session.

She glanced toward the room.

Every member was watching her.

Even Élodie had turned away from the window.

Alina nodded.

”We’ll be there.”

”Acknowledged.”

The line went quiet.

She replaced the receiver.

Nobody spoke.

Then Réka slowly raised her eyebrows.

”Well?”

Alina looked toward the wall clock.

Twelve fourteen.

Forty-six minutes.

She took a breath.

”Everybody. Operations briefing. Thirteen hundred.”

Morgan blinked.

”All of us?”

”All twelve.”

Lara immediately began gathering her documents.

Darya closed her tool kit.

Greta rose.

Johanna placed her cup down.

And Réka grinned.

”Oh.”

Alina looked toward her.

”What?”

The Hungarian girl smiled.

”Something interesting.”

Morgan sighed.

”Don’t start.”

But Réka was already standing.

And down the corridor, Cassidy Boone was about to receive the most exciting news of her month.

 Zofia’s reaction was considerably less dignified than Alina would have preferred.

”FINALLY!”

The shout echoed down the barracks corridor.

Somewhere nearby, a door slammed.

A sailor on the other side of the building yelled something about people trying to sleep.

Cassidy leaned against the doorway, smiling.

”Good news?”

Morgan looked toward her.

”Operations briefing.”

Cassidy considered that.

Then glanced toward Zofia, who was already grabbing her boots.

”Could be paperwork.”

The Polish girl froze.

Slowly turned.

And stared.

”Don’t.”

Cassidy smiled.

”Could be another drill.”

Zofia’s expression became pained.

”Cassidy.”

”Could be another lecture.”

”Stop.”

”Could be a surprise inspection.”

Zofia pointed at her.

”I will throw you into the ocean.”

Cassidy nodded thoughtfully.

”At least I’d get to go somewhere.”

Morgan covered her face.

Alina, standing behind them, sighed.

”Both of you. Proper uniforms. No weapons required for the briefing. And please try to behave like responsible adults.”

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Both considered the request.

Then Cassidy nodded.

”Reasonable.”

Zofia smiled.

”Entirely.”

Alina narrowed her eyes.

Neither looked trustworthy.

She decided not to waste time arguing.

They had thirty minutes.

And she wanted the entire group assembled before the Commander started wondering why an auxiliary detachment of twelve could not move through its own barracks without losing someone.

Unfortunately, that was a legitimate concern.

Réka had once disappeared during a scheduled equipment inspection.

They’d found her beneath a maintenance vehicle discussing a damaged suspension component with a mechanic.

She’d been offended that anybody considered her missing.

She had known exactly where she was.

The problem, as Alina had explained, was that nobody else did.

Réka had called this a communication issue.

Alina agreed.

Very strongly.

Now the group began preparing.

Not for combat.

Not yet.

For a briefing.

That distinction mattered.

They changed into appropriate uniforms.

Checked their identification.

Collected notebooks.

And ensured that the equipment they’d been told to leave behind remained secured.

Cassidy stood before her locker for a long moment.

Then looked at the enormous revolver resting inside its approved storage case.

She smiled.

”See you later.”

Zofia glanced over.

”You’re talking to it again.”

Cassidy closed the case.

”She’s a good listener.”

”She has five chambers.”

”Five attentive chambers.”

Zofia groaned.

Then grabbed her scarf.

For the first time in several weeks, the trip to Operations didn’t feel like another step in an endlessly repeating routine.

Something had changed.

They could feel it.

And neither of them knew whether that was good news.

The walk to the operations building took twelve minutes.

It took VESPER seventeen.

This was because Cassidy had insisted on stopping beside the motor pool to admire a newly repaired utility vehicle, and Réka had immediately begun explaining why its steering linkage had been installed incorrectly during the previous maintenance period.

The vehicle wasn’t broken.

In fact, it was operating considerably better than it had a week earlier.

But Réka had noticed a detail she disliked.

Darya had agreed with her.

Then disagreed about the reason.

Within approximately thirty seconds, the two had begun a technical discussion that showed every sign of lasting until dinner.

Alina eventually intervened.

”Ladies.”

Neither responded.

”Darya.”

”One moment.”

”Réka.”

”Almost finished.”

Alina glanced toward the clock on the maintenance building.

Then took a slow breath.

”We have an operational briefing.”

Réka looked up.

”Oh.”

Darya checked the time.

”Oh.”

Morgan sighed.

Cassidy smiled.

”Professional organization.”

Greta made a noise of disapproval.

Johanna looked toward Alina.

”Would you like me to fetch a rope?”

Alina stared.

Johanna smiled pleasantly.

”For keeping everyone together, naturally.”

Zofia burst out laughing.

Ingrid shook her head.

Natsuki covered a smile.

Lara checked her watch.

Élodie looked toward the sky as though considering whether she might yet escape the conversation by leaving the atmosphere.

Eventually, they resumed walking.

The main waterfront road was busier than it had been when VESPER first arrived.

Several older buildings had been reopened.

The cargo district operated throughout most of the day.

A newly painted directional sign pointed toward the communications annex, while temporary fencing marked a section of damaged pavement awaiting resurfacing.

Near Warehouse Three, two dockworkers waved at the group.

Morgan returned the greeting.

Zofia waved enthusiastically.

Greta nodded.

The older of the two workers looked toward Cassidy.

”Afternoon, Miss Boone!”

Cassidy smiled.

”Afternoon!”

”Keeping out of trouble?”

”Professionally!”

The dockworker laughed.

Alina sighed.

They continued.

At the next intersection, they encountered Piper, Tamsin, and Ren.

The other three former-player SIA women had been summoned from their own barracks.

Piper carried a small notebook beneath one arm.

Tamsin looked faintly suspicious.

Ren appeared calm, although her eyes moved between the assembled members of VESPER with visible curiosity.

Piper grinned when she saw them.

”Hey!”

Morgan smiled.

”Morning.”

”Afternoon,” Lara corrected.

Morgan glanced toward the sun.

”Right.”

Zofia approached Tamsin.

The two regarded one another.

Then Zofia pointed toward the other woman’s empty hands.

”No Sten?”

Tamsin shook her head.

”Briefing.”

”Sad.”

”Very.”

Cassidy stepped beside them.

”Nobody brought anything interesting.”

Tamsin looked toward her.

Then smiled.

”I hear you’ve been cleaning yours again.”

Cassidy nodded proudly.

”She deserves attention.”

Tamsin laughed.

Ren looked toward Zofia.

”Do you know what we’re being called in for?”

The Polish girl shook her head.

”No.”

Piper grinned.

”Maybe we’re finally going somewhere.”

Alina looked toward her.

”Please don’t encourage them.”

Piper laughed.

”I didn’t say it would be combat.”

Cassidy considered that.

”Could be a field trip.”

Réka smiled.

”To somewhere with broken machinery.”

Darya nodded.

”That would be useful.”

Greta folded her arms.

”Can we at least reach the briefing room before discussing imaginary assignments?”

Zofia looked toward her.

”You’re no fun.”

”Correct.”

The group continued toward Operations.

Fifteen young women.

Different countries.

Different accents.

Different firearms.

Different experiences.

All former players.

All registered under the SIA military category.

And all beginning to understand that a summons from Horizon’s Command wasn’t necessarily a cause for celebration.

The base had been quieter than the front lines.

That didn’t mean the front lines had stopped existing.

Piper seemed to recognize the shift in mood.

Her smile softened.

She glanced toward Alina.

”Do you think it’s serious?”

Alina considered the question.

”Probably.”

Ren looked toward her.

”Why?”

”Because they asked for all of us.”

Tamsin nodded.

”And Mira.”

”Yes.”

They passed the infirmary.

A nurse was helping a wounded sailor down the entrance steps.

The man’s left arm was secured in a sling.

He smiled at the nurse, said something they couldn’t hear, and carefully climbed into a waiting utility vehicle.

Cassidy watched.

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Zofia noticed.

For all their complaints about boredom, they’d seen enough injuries during the past month to understand that Horizon Atoll was not a harmless place.

Several sailors from Breakwater’s original convoy battle were still recovering.

Keelborn sometimes returned from routine exercises bruised, exhausted, or hurt.

Aster’s mine incident remained a particularly vivid reminder that even supposedly safe waters could conceal terrible surprises.

And the regional casualty lists were growing.

The thought followed them toward the operations building.

Alina glanced over her shoulder.

Everybody was still there.

Twelve.

Plus Piper, Tamsin, and Ren.

She counted automatically.

Then caught herself.

Morgan noticed.

”Doing it again?”

Alina looked toward her.

”What?”

”Counting.”

The Russian woman hesitated.

Then smiled faintly.

”Yes.”

Morgan nodded.

”All present.”

”For now.”

The words escaped before Alina could stop them.

Morgan’s smile faded.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the American woman gently touched her shoulder.

”Hey.”

Alina looked up.

Morgan smiled.

”Let’s hear what they want first.”

Alina considered that.

Then nodded.

”Right.”

The group reached the operations building.

Two native SIA security personnel stood beside the entrance.

One recognized Alina immediately.

”Morozova?”

”Yes.”

”Ground Operations. Second floor.”

”Thank you.”

The security woman looked over the assembled group.

Then smiled faintly.

”All fifteen?”

Alina nodded.

”All fifteen.”

The woman stepped aside.

”Commander is expecting you.”

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

For once, neither made a joke.

They climbed the stairs.

 Ground Operations occupied a renovated room in the eastern wing of the command complex.

Before the Crisis, Horizon’s old station staff had used it for coastal security planning, civil-defense exercises, and the occasional emergency response involving the nearby shipping lanes.

The room had recently received a great deal of attention.

A large wall map covered most of its northern side.

A second board displayed the station’s current security sectors.

The central table had been repaired and fitted with a new laminated chart surface.

Several portable displays sat beside the communications equipment, drawing power from the refurbished electrical network.

The air-conditioning worked.

Mostly.

A ceiling fan had been installed as insurance.

Kade Bher stood beside the main table, speaking quietly with Chief Fenwick.

Captain Daniel Mercer was seated near the window.

Mira stood beside the security board.

Irena Holt occupied one of the chairs along the far wall.

Corwin Hale was present, accompanied by a familiar expression of financial concern.

Aster stood near the map with Calla and Elsa.

Nadya sat beside them.

June was at the communications console.

Senko was not in the room, though a set of cargo-handling estimates bearing her handwriting rested beside the map.

Alina took all of that in before she’d finished crossing the threshold.

The personnel weren’t gathered for a routine briefing.

There were too many specialists.

Too many folders.

And the chart on the main table did not show Horizon Atoll.

It showed an unfamiliar cluster of reefs and low islands surrounding an abandoned industrial harbor.

Kade looked up.

”Good afternoon.”

The fifteen women straightened.

Alina spoke for the group.

”Commander. VESPER reporting as directed. Piper’s team is with us.”

Kade nodded.

”Good. Come in.”

They entered.

Chairs had been arranged around the table.

Fifteen places.

One for each of them.

Cassidy noticed immediately.

She glanced toward Zofia.

The Polish girl raised an eyebrow.

Somebody had planned this.

Kade gestured toward the seats.

”Make yourselves comfortable. This may take a while.”

Morgan sat beside Lara.

Greta took a chair near the end of the table.

Élodie chose a position with a clear view of the map.

Réka sat beside Zofia, who immediately began studying the chart.

Cassidy settled into a chair near Johanna.

Piper, Tamsin, and Ren occupied the remaining spaces.

Alina remained standing.

Kade noticed.

”Morozova.”

”Commander?”

”You can sit.”

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

”Yes, sir.”

He waited until everybody was settled.

Then looked toward Mira.

”Everyone accounted for?”

The native SIA security officer checked the roster.

”Fifteen former-player SIA personnel. All present.”

”Good.”

Kade folded his arms.

Then regarded the group.

Most looked attentive.

Several looked nervous.

A few appeared positively excited.

Cassidy and Zofia fell into the last category.

He could tell.

The two were trying very hard to look professional.

Which, somehow, made their excitement more obvious.

Kade considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

”Before we begin, I want to make something clear.”

The room quieted.

He looked from one end of the table to the other.

”This is a voluntary assignment briefing.”

Alina blinked.

Cassidy tilted her head.

Zofia sat a little straighter.

Kade continued.

”Nobody in this room is being informed that they’ve already been assigned to a combat operation.”

There was a pause.

”You are being offered an opportunity to participate in one.”

The silence changed.

Morgan slowly lowered her notebook.

Piper’s smile disappeared.

Tamsin looked toward the chart.

Élodie studied Kade.

And Cassidy stopped leaning back in her chair.

The Commander let the words settle.

Then nodded toward the map.

”Six days ago, Operations began reviewing reports of Blackwake activity around the Burnt Narrows.”

Alina recognized the location from regional security notices.

So did several others.

Kade continued.

”At the time, we did not have enough information to authorize an attack. We approved reconnaissance and feasibility work instead.”

He looked toward Calla.

The Atlanta-class girl stepped forward.

”Since then, we’ve received two additional patrol reports, a revised navigation survey, and aerial observations obtained through regional support.”

She indicated the chart.

”There’s an occupied industrial complex on the inner shore of the northernmost island.”

A portable image appeared on the display.

The photograph was grainy.

Taken from a distance.

But the structures were recognizable.

An old industrial pier.

Several warehouses.

A small power building.

A low administrative block.

And a broad concrete facility surrounded by rusting pipes.

Black stains spread across the ground near several structures.

Some appeared to extend into the harbor.

Calla continued.

”Blackwake vessels have been observed entering and leaving the area. We’re confident the site is being used as a forward support installation.”

Kade nodded.

”That changes the assessment.”

Zofia leaned forward.

Cassidy looked toward the map.

The Commander continued.

”We still don’t know exactly what they’ve stored there. But we have confirmation that ordinary industrial machinery and captured cargo remain on site.”

Corwin stepped forward.

He looked as though he would much rather be somewhere else.

”Based on the latest observations, there’s a reasonable chance the warehouses contain usable mechanical stock.”

He indicated the images.

”Power distribution equipment, steel components, repair machinery, and possibly packaged supplies captured from commercial shipping.”

Darya’s interest sharpened immediately.

Réka leaned forward.

Greta frowned thoughtfully.

Morgan looked toward the quartermaster.

”Are we going to recover it?”

Corwin hesitated.

”That’s the intention, if circumstances permit.”

Kade nodded.

”Recovery is a secondary objective.”

The words made several members of VESPER look up.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

”Secondary?”

”Yes.”

Kade indicated the harbor entrance.

”The primary objective is to disrupt the Blackwake support position and prevent it from threatening our shipping.”

He looked toward the group.

”Removing recoverable supplies is desirable. Getting everybody home is mandatory to the extent that we can make it happen.”

He paused.

”And we’re not going to sacrifice people for cargo.”

The room became quiet again.

Alina watched him.

He wasn’t speaking like someone trying to excite a group of players about an upcoming mission.

He was speaking like an officer who expected them to ask difficult questions.

That helped.

More than she expected.

Kade looked toward Aster.

”Let’s go through the naval portion first.”

Aster stepped closer.

Her red ribbon moved slightly as she turned toward the map.

”Right.”

She pointed toward the western approach.

”The outer waters are navigable for Keelborn, but the reefs make the inner harbor difficult for larger vessels.”

She glanced toward Mercer.

”Especially certain very expensive ones.”

The battleship captain smiled.

”Appreciate that.”

Aster grinned.

”You’re welcome.”

Kade sighed quietly.

”Continue.”

She nodded.

”We’ve selected the Keelborn group for the initial approach.”

Calla indicated the first marker.

”Elsa will lead the primary surface group. I’ll handle anti-aircraft coordination and maintain communication with the supporting vessels. Aster will cover the shallower approaches and assist with the closer survey.”

Nadya leaned forward.

”I’ll provide heavy support if the situation requires it.”

Elsa looked toward the seated SIA women.

”June will remain with the supporting element and help cover the approach.”

June nodded from the console.

The selections were deliberate.

Elsa, Calla, Nadya, and Aster were experienced Beta Testers already using proper class rigging.

June had improved considerably during her month at Horizon and had been assigned a role appropriate to her current qualifications.

The newest girls were not going.

Riko remained at Horizon.

Yuna remained at Horizon.

Emi and Mina remained in training.

The rest of the inexperienced Keelborn continued their assignments under the station’s established readiness restrictions.

Kade had refused the suggestion that the operation could serve as a convenient practical examination for beginners.

He had also refused a proposal to bring Riko merely because she possessed the firepower of a Yamato-class battleship.

Her impressive guns were not a substitute for training.

And her Mk. I equipment was not suited to an offensive movement through uncertain coastal waters.

Cassidy listened to the explanation.

Then looked toward Mercer.

”And the battleship?”

The captain smiled.

”Breakwater will accompany the supporting force.”

Zofia’s eyes widened.

Cassidy slowly turned toward her.

Both wore identical expressions.

Mercer continued.

”We’ll remain in water suitable for the ship’s draft and operate under the assigned support plan.”

The author’s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Kade added, ”Breakwater is not entering the reef.”

The captain nodded.

”Absolutely not.”

Aster looked toward Cassidy.

”She’s a real battleship. She’s not a destroyer girl.”

Cassidy smiled.

”Well, obviously.”

Kade continued.

”Her presence provides additional anti-aircraft capability, communications support, and heavy gunfire if circumstances make it necessary.”

He paused.

”But we’re not planning to bombard the industrial site simply because we brought a battleship.”

Corwin nodded emphatically.

”Please don’t destroy everything we’re hoping to recover.”

Mercer raised both hands.

”I promise the main battery won’t be used for warehouse demolition without good reason.”

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Both appeared disappointed.

Alina noticed.

”Don’t.”

They straightened immediately.

Kade saw.

His mouth twitched.

Then he turned toward Mira.

”Now we get to the reason you’re here.”

The native security officer stepped forward.

She indicated the buildings behind the main pier.

”The Keelborn can establish control of the sea approaches and suppress or destroy hostile naval threats.”

She looked across the table.

”But they cannot safely inspect every room of an industrial complex using naval weapons.”

Greta nodded slowly.

Darya studied the map.

Mira continued.

”Reconnaissance suggests the complex contains hostile personnel.”

A silence followed.

Cassidy’s expression changed.

”Personnel?”

”Yes.”

Piper frowned.

”Human?”

Mira nodded.

”Some appear human.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Ren raised one hand.

”Blackwake?”

Mira looked toward her.

”Blackwake-associated. The exact nature of their condition is uncertain.”

She changed the displayed image.

This photograph showed a figure standing beside a damaged warehouse entrance.

The individual wore what looked like an old industrial work uniform.

Its posture was strange.

The face was obscured.

Dark organic material covered part of one arm and extended across the shoulder.

Another figure stood farther behind.

This one had the unmistakable shape of an SIA combat frame.

Its armor was damaged.

Something black and fibrous wrapped around its torso.

A third image showed several shapes moving through the loading district.

Some carried weapons.

Others appeared to be dragging cargo.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Zofia stopped smiling.

Cassidy leaned forward.

Alina’s expression hardened.

Mira continued.

”The Blackwake have previously demonstrated the ability to contaminate, alter, or otherwise control human and synthetic personnel.”

She paused.

”Some victims remain dangerous after the initial infection.”

Lara looked toward Irena.

The medical officer nodded gravely.

”We don’t know how many of the personnel at this location are recoverable.”

The word mattered.

Recoverable.

Not targets.

Not obstacles.

People.

At least some of them.

Irena continued.

”Some may still be alive. Some may be beyond medical help. We don’t know.”

Cassidy looked at the photograph.

The dark material around the figure’s arm was difficult to make out.

She’d heard stories.

Everyone had.

The Blackwake weren’t merely enemy warships.

Their presence could change the places they occupied.

Ships.

Machinery.

Bodies.

Sometimes in ways that made ordinary distinctions between organic and mechanical structures difficult to maintain.

The image looked unpleasant.

Cassidy considered the possibility of encountering something like that inside a dark building.

For the first time all afternoon, she didn’t feel particularly bored.

Mira looked toward the table.

”The proposed landing group would enter after the Keelborn establish the necessary security conditions.”

Alina straightened.

Mira continued.

”Your tasks would include controlled inspection of selected buildings, identification of recoverable personnel, protection of technical assessment teams, and responding to hostile infantry or contaminated SIA threats that cannot be safely bypassed.”

She looked toward the photograph again.

”Armed resistance is possible.”

A pause.

”Close-range encounters are possible.”

Another pause.

”Casualties are possible.”

Nobody joked.

Kade stepped forward.

”And that is why this is an offer.”

He looked around the table.

”I want everyone to understand exactly what we’re considering before making a decision.”

Cassidy swallowed.

Zofia folded her hands.

Piper glanced toward Ren.

And Alina realized that the meeting wasn’t merely about giving VESPER something interesting to do.

It was about asking them whether they were ready to risk dying somewhere far from home.

For real.

Alina raised her hand.

Kade nodded.

”Go ahead.”

”Commander, before anyone volunteers, I’d like clarification regarding our status.”

Mira turned toward her.

Kade folded his arms.

”Which part?”

Alina hesitated.

Then looked toward her friends.

”All twelve of us are registered as SIA personnel.”

”Yes.”

”But we’re not...”

She stopped.

The wording felt strange.

The room contained an actual synthetic person in Mira.

Alina didn’t want to imply that being synthetic made somebody less real, especially after everything she’d learned during the past month.

Mira seemed to understand.

She spoke first.

”You’re biologically human.”

Alina nodded.

”Yes.”

”Your SIA role classification is a separate administrative matter.”

”Right.”

Kade watched the exchange.

Alina continued.

”I’d like to know whether the same casualty-recovery procedures apply to us as they do to native SIA Dolls.”

The question changed the room.

Lara looked up.

Darya stopped examining the photographs.

Morgan became still.

Several others glanced toward Irena.

Kade nodded slowly.

”Good question.”

He looked toward Mira.

”Would you explain?”

The native SIA officer inclined her head.

”Of course.”

She turned toward the group.

”As part of your registration and training, all fifteen of you have completed the standard SIA cognitive-backup procedure.”

Cassidy shifted in her chair.

Zofia glanced toward her.

They remembered.

Very clearly.

The room where the procedure had been performed was in a secure annex behind Horizon’s medical and technical departments.

It wasn’t particularly impressive.

No glowing chamber.

No dramatic machinery resembling something from a science-fiction movie.

Just an examination chair, diagnostic equipment, a secured data interface, and technicians who had explained the process with the calm professionalism of people performing an ordinary military procedure.

The native SIA personnel used the system regularly.

Their cognitive records could be preserved in protected backup storage.

If a synthetic body was destroyed while a valid backup survived, a replacement frame could be prepared and the stored mind-state installed.

The reconstructed SIA Doll would awaken with memories and personality recorded up to the backup point.

Any experiences after that point could be lost.

And the destroyed body would remain destroyed.

For synthetic personnel, the procedure was familiar.

For VESPER, it had been considerably stranger.

All fifteen former players possessed their original biological bodies after the Crisis.

But their selected SIA roles had retained the specialized interfaces necessary to work with the backup system.

The technicians had examined that compatibility carefully.

More carefully than the newcomers initially expected.

Eventually, the station had authorized cognitive backups for the former-player SIA personnel.

The data could be preserved.

And the documented SIA restoration process provided a way for those records to be installed into compatible replacement synthetic frames if the original bodies were lost.

It did not regrow human bodies.

It did not reverse an injury.

It did not transport a dying person safely out of danger.

And it did not mean replacement frames were waiting in unlimited numbers.

Those distinctions mattered.

Mira continued.

”Your backup records are stored under the same protection protocols used for native SIA personnel, but your physical circumstances are different.”

She indicated the group.

”You currently possess human biological bodies. If those bodies are killed, they cannot simply be repaired like a damaged synthetic frame.”

The room remained quiet.

”A replacement SIA body would have to be obtained, inspected, fitted to your registered systems, and prepared for restoration.”

Darya raised a hand.

Mira nodded.

”Belova?”

”What about the difference between our present bodies and the replacement ones?”

”A restored person would awaken in a synthetic frame.”

Darya considered that.

”With the stored memories.”

”Yes.”

”And the registered personality data.”

”Yes.”

”But not necessarily everything that happened after the last successful backup.”

”Correct.”

Darya nodded slowly.

Then looked toward the table.

Lara spoke.

”What about the medical department?”

Irena answered.

”If one of you is wounded, my staff will treat you as a human patient.”

She looked around the room.

”Because that is what you are.”

Several women nodded.

Irena continued.

”We won’t delay emergency treatment because somebody thinks your registration makes you interchangeable with a synthetic chassis.”

She paused.

”And if one of you dies, the availability of a backup won’t make that death less real for the people who witnessed it.”

The words landed heavily.

Zofia looked down.

Cassidy’s hands rested motionless on the table.

Alina watched Irena.

The doctor continued.

”There are also things the backup cannot preserve.”

She glanced toward Mira.

”Your body. Your experiences since the recording. The days you haven’t yet lived.”

Mira nodded.

”And a successful restoration still depends on the backup remaining intact and the required replacement resources being available.”

Kade stepped forward.

”Which brings us to another problem.”

He looked toward Corwin.

The quartermaster grimaced.

Kade continued.

”We do not have fifteen spare SIA frames sitting in a warehouse.”

Morgan raised her eyebrows.

Cassidy leaned back.

”Really?”

Corwin looked toward her.

”Miss Boone.”

”Yes?”

”Do you have any idea what a complete military-grade synthetic frame costs?”

Cassidy considered that.

Then smiled.

”More than my revolver?”

Corwin’s expression suggested that she had committed a personal offense.

”Considerably.”

She nodded.

”Fair.”

He looked toward the room.

”Replacement frames require manufacturing capacity, specialized components, transport arrangements, and authorization. They are not inexpensive.”

Greta nodded.

”Understandable.”

Corwin continued.

”The station has access to a limited repair inventory and emergency requisition channels, but I would strongly advise against developing a recovery plan based on the assumption that all fifteen of you can be replaced immediately.”

Kade nodded.

”Exactly.”

Alina took a slow breath.

”So the backup is a contingency.”

”Yes,” Kade said.

”Not a reason to take unnecessary risks.”

”Definitely not.”

Lara looked toward Mira.

”How current are our backups?”

The native officer checked her records.

”All fifteen completed the required refresh cycle yesterday. There were no reported failures.”

Darya nodded.

”Good.”

Mira continued.

”A final verification will be conducted before departure if the mission proceeds.”

Cassidy raised one hand.

Kade looked toward her.

”Boone?”

She hesitated.

For once, the answer wasn’t obvious.

”If...”

She stopped.

Then looked toward the Commander.

”If somebody’s body gets destroyed, and the backup’s used...”

The room became very quiet.

Cassidy’s usual easy confidence had faded.

She looked toward her hands.

”Would they still be...?”

She didn’t finish.

Nobody rushed to answer.

The technical system had procedures.

Records.

Restoration standards.

Decades of practical history.

Native SIA Dolls had returned from replacement-frame reconstruction and resumed their lives.

They remembered their friends.

Recognized their comrades.

Continued relationships.

Worked.

Laughed.

Grieved what they had lost.

But the question Cassidy was really asking went beyond whether a replacement frame could be made operational.

She wanted to know whether she would still be there.

Whether the person sitting in the chair would open her eyes again.

Or whether somebody else with her memories would have to live with the absence she’d left behind.

Mira looked toward her.

”I can tell you what restoration means to us.”

Cassidy raised her eyes.

The native synthetic woman spoke calmly.

”I have known SIA personnel who were restored from their backups.”

She paused.

”They returned to us as themselves. They remembered what their backups preserved. They continued the lives they had been living.”

Cassidy listened.

Mira continued.

”But the loss of a body and the experiences following the last recording are not imaginary. Neither is the grief of the people waiting for restoration.”

She folded her hands.

”I would never describe the process as harmless.”

Cassidy nodded slowly.

”Right.”

Kade looked around the table.

”That’s the attitude I expect from everyone.”

He gestured toward the roster.

”You’re not carrying fifteen guaranteed extra lives.”

Zofia glanced up.

He met her eyes.

”And I’m not authorizing you to behave as though you are.”

She nodded.

”Understood.”

Lara looked toward the medical reports.

Then spoke quietly.

”Thank you.”

Kade returned the nod.

”You’re welcome.”

For a while, the room remained silent.

Then Cassidy cleared her throat.

”One more question.”

Corwin looked exhausted already.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

”Go ahead.”

Cassidy considered him.

”If I get a replacement frame, does it still get to be six feet tall?”

The silence lasted almost three seconds.

Then Morgan covered her face.

Zofia burst out laughing.

Darya stared.

Greta made a sound of profound disapproval.

And Cassidy smiled.

Mira considered the question with complete seriousness.

”Replacement frame dimensions depend on availability and compatibility.”

Cassidy’s expression changed.

”...Oh.”

Kade folded his arms.

”There’s your incentive to be careful.”

Johanna laughed softly.

Cassidy looked toward her.

The German woman smiled.

”Imagine waking up shorter than Zofia.”

Zofia’s laughter stopped.

Slowly, she turned.

”Excuse me?”

Réka leaned back in her chair.

”Oh, that’s cruel.”

Morgan began laughing.

Even Élodie’s mouth twitched.

Cassidy considered the horrifying possibility of losing twenty centimeters of height.

Then looked toward Corwin.

”Quartermaster.”

He closed his eyes.

”Miss Boone.”

”Can I submit a preferred replacement specification?”

Alina buried her face in her hands.

Corwin stared at Cassidy.

Then sighed.

”After the briefing.”

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

”Thank you.”

Kade looked toward Mara.

The chief was trying not to laugh.

He shook his head.

The room relaxed a little.

Not because the discussion had become less important.

But because the young women could still laugh together after hearing something frightening.

Kade understood the value of that.

He had no intention of taking it away from them.

 The operational plan occupied another forty minutes.

Kade did not hurry through it.

Neither did Mira.

The purpose of the ground detachment was not to storm every building in the industrial complex or engage every possible hostile contact.

The naval force would first deal with enemy vessels in the approaches.

Only after Calla and Elsa reported that the required security conditions had been met would the infantry landing be authorized.

The landing group would approach the outer shore rather than attempt to enter the damaged harbor.

From there, it would proceed only into designated structures that had been assessed as accessible and relevant to the operation.

Their primary assignments were to protect technical personnel, identify hostile infantry threats, locate potentially recoverable people, and examine the selected industrial storage areas.

A secondary team would document machinery and supplies.

If the conditions became unsuitable, they would withdraw.

If the naval force lost control of the approaches, they would withdraw.

If significant enemy reinforcements appeared, they would withdraw.

And if the situation inside the buildings proved more dangerous than expected, Kade wanted the ground leader to understand that abandoning the inspection was not failure.

It was judgment.

Zofia listened.

She had spent the last month imagining how exciting it might be to leave the base.

Now she was staring at the map of an enemy-held industrial station while the Commander explained what could go wrong.

A great deal, apparently.

The list seemed practically endless.

Unknown hostile personnel.

Structural collapse.

Blackwake contamination.

Unstable machinery.

Possible hidden defensive positions.

Inadequate intelligence.

Limited evacuation routes.

The need to maintain communications with a naval force operating beyond a reef.

And the possibility that enemy vessels might arrive while the infantry group was still ashore.

Zofia slowly lowered her chin onto her hands.

Cassidy glanced toward her.

”Still bored?”

The Polish girl turned.

For a moment, she looked as though she might respond with her usual sarcasm.

Instead, she sighed.

”No.”

Cassidy smiled faintly.

”Me neither.”

They returned their attention to the briefing.

Mira was discussing the nature of the hostile personnel.

”Blackwake-infected humans and SIA frames have been encountered in other coastal installations,” she explained. ”Their behavior varies. Some attack immediately. Others appear confused, inactive, or focused on repetitive tasks.”

Lara looked toward her.

”Can they be treated?”

Mira’s expression became more serious.

”In some cases, contaminated personnel have been stabilized after recovery. In others, the damage was too extensive.”

Irena nodded.

”We’ll have a medical screening procedure for anyone recovered.”

She glanced toward the group.

”But I don’t want anyone assuming a person is safe merely because they look human.”

Nobody argued.

”Nor do I want anyone assuming they must be killed merely because they show signs of contamination.”

A quiet pause followed.

Kade looked toward the photograph.

”Exactly.”

He turned toward the SIA personnel.

”If someone is an immediate threat, you’re authorized to protect yourselves and one another.”

He let the statement settle.

”But this is not a license to shoot every person who looks strange.”

Mira nodded.

”Threat identification is essential.”

Cassidy looked toward the image of the corrupted SIA frame.

The black material around its torso looked almost like thick cables.

Except cables didn’t usually grow into armor joints.

She considered what it might feel like to meet one of those things inside a narrow corridor.

Her revolver was powerful.

More than powerful enough to be dangerous in a small room.

That was part of why she’d chosen it.

But now she found herself thinking about what might be behind the thing she was aiming at.

A wall.

Machinery.

A friend.

Someone who was still alive.

The thought wasn’t amusing.

She looked toward Mira.

”Will we know which ones can be helped?”

The native SIA officer considered her.

”Not always.”

Cassidy nodded.

”Right.”

Mira continued.

”That’s why the medical team and experienced security personnel will be involved.”

She looked toward Alina.

”Your group’s familiarity with one another is an advantage. But experience in simulated combat does not automatically qualify you to evaluate contamination cases.”

Alina nodded.

”Understood.”

”Do not improvise medical judgments.”

”Yes.”

”Do not separate from your assigned personnel without authorization.”

”Understood.”

”And do not assume a disabled SIA frame is safe to handle.”

Darya raised one hand.

Mira looked toward her.

”Belova?”

”Because of potential remaining power systems?”

”Among other things.”

Darya nodded.

”Understood.”

Réka glanced toward her friend.

Then whispered:

”You were going to ask whether we could salvage parts.”

Darya’s expression became offended.

”I was not.”

Réka smiled.

”Liar.”

Darya looked away.

Alina slowly turned toward both of them.

They stopped.

Immediately.

Mira continued.

A small native security support element would accompany the landing group.

Mira herself would serve as its experienced field supervisor.

Alina would coordinate VESPER’s assigned personnel.

Piper would oversee the smaller three-woman auxiliary team under Mira’s direction.

The arrangement placed the inexperienced former players alongside somebody who actually understood the AU’s security procedures.

It also avoided treating friendship as a substitute for military structure.

Kade wanted their existing teamwork preserved.

He did not want it to become an excuse for ignoring qualified instruction.

Once the roles were explained, he turned toward the map.

”The landing will be conducted from Breakwater.”

Cassidy’s head rose.

Zofia blinked.

Several others looked toward Mercer.

The captain looked remarkably pleased with himself.

Kade noticed.

He sighed.

”Captain.”

Mercer smiled.

”Commander.”

”Would you like to explain?”

”Gladly.”

Kade closed his eyes briefly.

Something about the captain’s enthusiasm made him uneasy.

Mercer approached the display.

He placed a photograph beside the operational chart.

It showed a low, boxy landing craft with a blunt bow and a forward ramp.

Its hull was painted a dull gray.

The design was unmistakable to anyone familiar with twentieth-century amphibious operations.

Zofia leaned forward.

Morgan stared.

Greta slowly raised her eyebrows.

And Cassidy smiled.

A very broad smile.

”No.”

Mercer grinned.

”Oh, yes.”

Kade looked toward the photograph.

Then toward the captain.

He’d already seen the boat.

He knew it existed.

He’d signed the inspection authorization.

He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with how pleased Mercer looked whenever somebody asked about it.

The captain tapped the image.

”Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel. LCVP.”

Darya tilted her head.

”A Higgins boat?”

Mercer nodded.

”Exactly.”

Zofia stared at him.

Then looked toward Breakwater’s silhouette on the other display.

Then back.

”You have a Higgins boat.”

”Yes.”

”On a battleship.”

”Yes.”

”An actual Higgins boat.”

”An actual LCVP-pattern landing craft.”

Cassidy slowly leaned back.

”Oh, that’s beautiful.”

Alina looked toward the captain.

”How?”

Mercer smiled.

Kade sighed.

There it was.

The question everybody eventually asked.

Mercer looked delighted to answer.

”One of our crew found an available landing craft through a surplus-support arrangement during the early days after the Crisis.”

Alina blinked.

He continued.

”Several of the men are naval history enthusiasts. They wanted to preserve a compatible landing capability for auxiliary duties.”

Kade folded his arms.

”That’s one way to describe it.”

Mercer ignored him.

”The craft needed repairs. We secured it, brought it aboard under a temporary transport authorization, and had Engineering inspect the hull, machinery, and lifting arrangements.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

”And nobody stopped you?”

The captain considered that.

”Several people asked questions.”

Kade spoke.

”Many questions.”

Mercer nodded.

”Yes.”

”Very pointed questions.”

”Also yes.”

”From multiple departments.”

Mercer smiled.

”We answered them.”

Kade looked toward the ceiling.

He had first discovered the boat when the crew requested additional fuel and replacement engine components for an auxiliary craft that did not appear on the battleship’s original equipment summary.

He had assumed they meant one of Breakwater’s ordinary ship’s boats.

Then Mercer had shown him the photograph.

Kade had stared at it for a long time.

Then asked why.

Mercer had answered:

Because we could.

Kade had informed him that this was not an acceptable logistics justification.

The captain had subsequently produced a twenty-page document explaining the boat’s potential utility for personnel transport, emergency shore access, salvage work, and limited amphibious operations.

Several naval officers had reviewed it.

Engineering had verified the relevant handling equipment.

Corwin had complained about the cost.

And somehow, despite the universe’s obvious sense of humor, the LCVP had remained in service.

Now it was being considered for an actual landing.

Cassidy looked toward Zofia.

Zofia looked toward Cassidy.

Both were smiling again.

Alina noticed.

She frowned.

”Don’t.”

Cassidy raised her hands.

”I didn’t say anything.”

”You’re thinking something.”

”Many things.”

Zofia leaned forward.

”Does the ramp work?”

Mercer nodded.

”Yes.”

”Does it actually go down?”

”Yes.”

”Like the old films?”

”Yes.”

The Polish girl stared.

Then smiled so broadly that Alina experienced an immediate headache.

Kade stepped forward.

”Before anyone starts imagining themselves storming a famous beachhead, this is a transport craft.”

Zofia looked toward him.

He continued.

”It’s not invulnerable. It has a crew. It requires fuel. It has weight limits, sea-state limits, and machinery that has to function properly.”

Mercer nodded.

”All true.”

”And we’re not going to use it until the boat-handling crew completes the scheduled rehearsal.”

”Agreed.”

Kade looked around the table.

”The landing will be from a controlled offshore position after the Keelborn secure the required approaches. Breakwater will remain in suitable water. The LCVP will carry the infantry group to the designated shore and return as directed.”

He looked toward Zofia.

”Not a beach race.”

She straightened.

”Yes, Commander.”

He looked toward Cassidy.

”Not an opportunity to test your revolver against the landscape.”

Cassidy looked offended.

”I would never.”

Corwin made a quiet sound.

She glanced toward him.

”...Without authorization.”

Morgan covered her face.

Kade sighed.

Then turned toward Mercer.

”How many rehearsals?”

The captain answered promptly.

”Two conducted with the boat crew. One full embarkation drill scheduled with the landing personnel.”

”Weather?”

”Acceptable for the current planning window, subject to the final forecast.”

”Engine?”

”Inspected.”

”Ramp?”

”Inspected.”

”Lifting arrangements?”

”Certified for the planned load.”

Kade nodded.

”Good.”

Mercer smiled.

”She’s a fine little boat.”

The Commander regarded him.

”Daniel.”

”Yes?”

”Please remember she’s a boat.”

Mercer looked innocent.

”Of course.”

”Not a historical exhibit you get to take sightseeing.”

The captain laughed.

Zofia whispered to Cassidy:

”He’s definitely taking it sightseeing.”

Cassidy nodded.

”Absolutely.”

Alina heard both of them.

She considered resigning from her unofficial leadership position.

Only briefly.

But sincerely.

 The final portion of the briefing was quieter.

Kade dismissed the technical displays and turned toward the assembled personnel.

The map remained on the wall.

The enemy installation remained visible.

Nobody had forgotten why they were there.

He rested both hands on the table.

”Now.”

The fifteen women looked toward him.

”I’ve told you what we know.”

He glanced toward Mira.

”And what we don’t.”

The native officer nodded.

Kade continued.

”You’ll have qualified supervision. You’ll have naval support. You’ll have a landing craft, medical arrangements, and a withdrawal plan.”

He paused.

”But none of those things make this safe.”

The room remained silent.

”I can’t guarantee there won’t be casualties.”

Alina watched him.

There was no attempt to soften the statement.

No suggestion that the mission would be easy.

No promise that superior weapons or good teamwork would protect them from everything.

Kade looked toward the photographs.

”The enemy’s behavior inside those buildings isn’t completely understood. Some of the people you encounter may be infected human beings or damaged SIA personnel. You’ll need to make difficult decisions.”

He looked around the room again.

”And you’ll have to live with them.”

The silence deepened.

Kade took a breath.

”This assignment is voluntary because I am not prepared to order an inexperienced infantry detachment into its first real ground engagement merely because the roster says it’s available.”

Morgan glanced toward Alina.

The Russian woman remained still.

Kade continued.

”If you decline, you’ll return to your normal training and security duties.”

He looked toward Cassidy and Zofia.

”There will be no punishment.”

Both straightened.

”No reduction in status.”

A pause.

”And no one gets to call you a coward for deciding you’re not ready.”

Zofia looked down.

She hadn’t expected that.

Not entirely.

A month ago, she might have thought refusing a mission was embarrassing.

Something that would make other players laugh.

A missed chance at a reward.

Now she was being offered the opportunity to enter a building where Blackwake-infected people might try to kill her.

The word coward suddenly felt much less important.

Kade looked toward Alina.

”Morozova.”

She straightened.

”Commander.”

”I don’t want an answer for twelve people just because you’re their leader.”

Her expression changed.

He continued.

”Each person decides.”

Alina nodded slowly.

”Understood.”

He glanced toward Piper.

”The same applies to your team.”

Piper nodded.

”Yes, sir.”

Kade looked toward Mira.

”Security will provide the full briefing documents and answer additional questions. I want the volunteers medically cleared and qualified for the assigned tasks before final authorization.”

Mira nodded.

”Understood.”

”And if the conditions change before departure, the operation may be modified or canceled.”

He looked around the table.

”Even if everyone volunteers.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Cassidy raised her hand.

Kade looked toward her.

”Boone.”

She hesitated.

For a moment, her usual easy grin disappeared.

Then she asked:

”If we go...”

He waited.

”...and somebody gets hurt...”

The words came more slowly than usual.

”Are we allowed to stop?”

Kade considered the question.

Then nodded.

”Yes.”

Cassidy blinked.

He continued.

”If somebody needs help, you report it and act according to the emergency procedures. The mission doesn’t take priority over an immediate threat to your own people.”

She looked toward him.

”And if we can’t finish?”

”Then we don’t finish.”

A silence followed.

Cassidy nodded slowly.

”Okay.”

Kade studied her.

Then smiled faintly.

”Any other questions?”

Darya raised her hand.

”Equipment maintenance arrangements?”

”Already scheduled.”

Lara asked about medical supplies.

Irena answered.

Greta asked whether the landing craft would provide enough space for her weapon and associated equipment.

Mercer explained the load calculations.

Johanna asked about the availability of specialized ammunition.

Corwin looked pained but provided the relevant figures.

Élodie asked whether her heavy rifle would be useful during the building inspections or whether she should remain with the supporting element.

Mira discussed the assignment limitations.

Ingrid asked about civilian personnel.

Irena reviewed the recovery procedures.

Natsuki asked what to do if a person appeared unarmed but infected.

Mira answered carefully.

Réka asked about the condition of the industrial machinery.

Dain’s preliminary technical notes were produced.

Morgan asked about movement between the landing point and the selected buildings.

The security map was reviewed.

Piper asked how the three-woman auxiliary team would be integrated.

Mira explained.

Tamsin asked about communication failures.

June discussed the available alternatives.

Ren asked whether contaminated synthetic personnel could still be identified through their military records.

Mira explained the limitations.

And Zofia—

Zofia looked toward the Commander.

Then raised her hand.

Kade nodded.

”Yes?”

She hesitated.

Then asked the most important question she’d asked all month.

”Commander...”

He waited.

”Do you think we’re ready?”

Nobody laughed.

Nobody teased her.

Alina looked toward the Polish girl.

Cassidy turned.

Kade considered the question.

He’d reviewed their training records.

Every one of them.

Their physical assessments.

Weapons qualifications.

Medical examinations.

Equipment inspections.

Performance during security exercises.

Strengths.

Weaknesses.

The group was not a veteran combat formation.

It wasn’t even close.

But it had spent the past month training under qualified personnel.

And its members knew one another well enough to communicate through stress without falling apart immediately.

That was useful.

Kade looked toward Zofia.

”I think you’re ready to be considered for a limited assignment.”

She listened.

He continued.

”I don’t think you’re ready for everything.”

She nodded slowly.

”And I don’t think anyone should pretend otherwise.”

The Polish girl glanced toward Alina.

Then back.

Kade smiled faintly.

”That’s why we’re offering this one with supervision and a clear withdrawal plan.”

Zofia considered that.

Then nodded.

”Okay.”

He returned the nod.

”Good.”

For a moment, the room remained quiet.

Then Kade straightened.

”Take the afternoon. Talk among yourselves. Ask whatever questions you need.”

He glanced toward the wall clock.

”I want individual responses before tomorrow’s final personnel review.”

Alina nodded.

”Understood.”

The Commander looked around the room one final time.

”Dismissed.”

Chairs moved.

Papers rustled.

The women began standing.

For the first time since receiving the summons, none of them hurried toward the door.

They’d wanted something to do.

Now they had been offered something.

And the offer was considerably heavier than they’d imagined.

The VESPER common room was unusually quiet that afternoon.

Nobody had ordered them to be quiet.

Nobody had imposed a restriction.

The silence had simply happened.

Cassidy sat on the edge of the table with her arms folded, staring at nothing in particular.

Zofia occupied the couch beneath the window.

Her scarf lay across her lap.

Morgan stood by the water dispenser.

Darya was looking through the briefing documents.

Réka sat beside her, examining one of the photographs of the abandoned industrial station.

Greta had taken the largest chair.

Johanna stood near the kitchen counter, preparing tea.

Ingrid sat with Natsuki.

Élodie leaned against the wall.

Lara had collected the medical forms.

And Alina stood beside the bulletin board, studying the duty roster as though it might contain the answer to a question nobody had asked aloud.

They had been together for years.

Some longer than others.

They knew how to spend time in silence.

But this silence was different.

Eventually, Cassidy spoke.

”Well.”

Nobody answered.

She looked around the room.

”That was educational.”

Morgan turned.

”Don’t.”

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

”What?”

”Don’t make a joke just because you don’t know what else to say.”

The American woman blinked.

For a moment, she looked genuinely surprised.

Then her smile faded.

”...Okay.”

Morgan sighed.

”Sorry.”

Cassidy shrugged.

”No. You’re right.”

Zofia looked toward the floor.

Alina turned away from the bulletin board.

”All right.”

Everyone looked up.

She took a breath.

”We should talk.”

Darya nodded.

”Yes.”

Alina looked toward the group.

”Not as a unit.”

A pause.

”As friends.”

Johanna set the kettle down.

The quiet sound seemed strangely loud.

Alina continued.

”The Commander was clear. Nobody has to go.”

Zofia opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Alina noticed.

”Zofia?”

The Polish girl hesitated.

”I want to.”

Several people looked toward her.

She straightened.

”I do.”

Morgan nodded slowly.

”Okay.”

Zofia looked down at her scarf.

”I’ve been complaining for weeks because I wanted to do something.”

Alina listened.

”And now there’s something.”

The Polish girl looked toward the table.

”I don’t want to hide in the barracks while everyone else risks getting killed.”

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Greta spoke.

”That is not the same as wanting to fight.”

Zofia looked toward her.

Greta’s expression was serious.

”Feeling guilty because others are in danger is understandable.”

She paused.

”But it is a poor reason to volunteer for an operation you are not prepared to undertake.”

Zofia considered that.

Then frowned.

”I’m not saying I want to get myself killed.”

”Good.”

”I’m saying I want to help.”

Greta nodded.

”Then say that.”

Zofia stared.

The older-looking German woman folded her arms.

”Don’t disguise it as a competition.”

For a moment, Zofia looked ready to argue.

Then her shoulders lowered.

”...Right.”

Alina smiled faintly.

Greta could be difficult.

Stubborn.

Painfully direct.

But she had a talent for finding the distinction between what someone was saying and what they actually meant.

It was one of the reasons VESPER trusted her.

Cassidy slid off the table.

”I want to go too.”

Morgan looked toward her.

Cassidy nodded.

”Not just because I’m bored.”

The room remained quiet.

She considered that.

Then added:

”All right. A little because I’m bored.”

Johanna smiled.

Cassidy continued.

”But mostly because...”

She hesitated.

Everyone watched her.

Cassidy looked toward the window.

”Because if somebody comes after Horizon, I don’t want my first real fight to be right outside our barracks.”

The words settled into the room.

Alina studied her.

Cassidy continued.

”I’d rather learn what I can do while there’s a plan, people watching us, and a way to get out.”

Darya frowned.

”A combat operation isn’t a training exercise.”

”I know.”

”People can die.”

”I know.”

”The backup doesn’t—”

”Darya.”

Cassidy looked toward her.

”I know.”

A pause followed.

Then her expression softened.

”I’m scared too.”

Darya stopped.

Cassidy smiled faintly.

”Contrary to popular belief, I do possess a survival instinct.”

Zofia snorted.

Morgan laughed weakly.

The tension eased.

Only a little.

But enough.

Alina looked toward Lara.

The Swiss woman was reviewing the medical forms.

”Lara?”

She raised her eyes.

”I haven’t decided.”

Nobody objected.

Lara continued.

”I think I could be useful.”

Alina nodded.

”But I’m concerned about the infected personnel.”

”Reasonable.”

”I don’t know whether I could examine somebody who was...”

She stopped.

Her fingers tightened around the documents.

”Like that.”

Ingrid leaned forward.

”You don’t have to decide immediately.”

Lara nodded.

”I know.”

For a moment, she looked relieved.

Then Johanna approached with the tea.

She placed a cup beside Lara.

The younger woman smiled.

”Thank you.”

”You’re welcome.”

Johanna took a seat.

”Personally, I intend to volunteer.”

Alina looked toward her.

”Why?”

Johanna considered that.

”Because I believe I can be useful in a protective role.”

She paused.

”And because I trust the command structure enough to believe we won’t be ordered to continue after the situation becomes unreasonable.”

Darya raised an eyebrow.

”That’s quite a statement.”

Johanna smiled.

”Yes.”

The German woman glanced toward the windows.

”I wouldn’t have said it two weeks ago.”

Alina considered that.

Then nodded slowly.

Nor would she.

Not entirely.

She’d spent the first several days after the Crisis worrying that the station would attempt to separate VESPER.

The AU’s legal records described them as Synthetic Infantry Assets.

That designation carried restrictions.